Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Last night was a doozy. I took the kids with me to Jake's soccer practice at 5:30. (Thankfully, I was able to feed them dinner beforehand.) Brooklyn and I were just hangin' out on the sidelines until she exclaimed, "I have to go potty!" This was the first time she's ever mentioned it in public before, so I was totally caught off guard.

We ran across the soccer fields to find the bathrooms. The bathrooms were exactly what you'd expect to find on a soccer field. Dirty. Grimy. Smelly. They had toilet paper, but that was about it. And I, of course, didn't bring anything with me because I was in a hurry and I wasn't thinking.

Good one, Mom.

I pulled Brooklyn's shorts and Pull-Up down and thought it would be a quick sit on the potty. Boy, was I wrong. The next thing I know, I had a pile of poop in my hands and it was everywhere! It was on my hands, my arms, Brooklyn's pants, her legs. And the smell...oh, the smell. Brooklyn stood there and immediately started crying. There was no trash can. No soap. No paper towels. Just a few squares of tissue-paper-thin toilet paper that was left in the stall.

It took me a few seconds to assess the situation and determine if I wanted to laugh or cry. But, you can't stand there with poop in your hands forever. So, I dumped everything in the toilet and wiped off Brooklyn and myself as much as I could with tissue-like toilet paper. I sat her on the potty. She didn't go but I applauded her for trying. I pulled up her shorts, and she had to go "commando" for the remainder of practice.

Ah, fun times. Definitely not one of my finer moments as a mom, but it sure gave me a good laugh. (And I've since stocked her backpack with every necessity one might need while potty training in public, so this doesn't happen to us again.)